For cold hands, burned hearts, endless bruises. For sleep, disturbed by nightmares, for darkness and loneliness, for crying so hard it hurts. For the people who are there, but not seen or noticed. For autumn. For all the words, forever stuck in your throat. For monsters that don't hide under your bed or behind the door, but creep in the darkness undernetah a smile. For deep, cold nights and colorful madness. For you. And for the beautiful, beautiful, bitter heaviness in your chest.

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